| Rachel Buhman |
Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains plays at the Trylon Cinema from Friday, June 19th, through Sunday, June 21st. For tickets, showtimes, and other series information, visit trylon.org.
The following is to be read in that classic movie trailer voice, you know the one.
In a world where an alternative girl is just a pair of glasses and a book, Diane Lane dares to be a stain.
Sitting down for Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains brings a buzzing excitement that anticipates the rush of something new. Raw emotion masked in mohawks, makeup, and messy women. Lane’s words as Corrine Burns, “I’m perfect! But no one gets me, because I don’t put out” ring out as possible future banners for the riot grrrl era and influenced members of Bikini Kill (Fletcher). Watching the film’s female lead persist against a sexist system feels like algorithmic hope-chore for the chronically misunderstood.
This is teenage girl rebellion on full display in a way that is reminiscent of Juno and well… not much else. So, what’s the deal? Well, a cursory internet search reveals that Caroline Coon, a music journalist for Melody Maker, was so taken with the burgeoning punk scene in the late 70s that she called up Nancy Dowd, an Academy Award-winning screenwriter and together they created the story. Just like Juno, this is a film about women by women. But this one is from 1982.
Suddenly, a sweet high of witnessing a feminist miracle washes over with refrains from the Indigo Girls’, “Closer to Fine.” You can say that you hear “Rebel Girl” in these moments but we all know it’s Indigo Girls. It’s incredible. Women getting to make films with a strong female voice in the 1980s?!? Why didn’t I already know this existed? How is there still a pay gap in 2026? And most of all, if this film had been a success wouldn’t there have been more like it?
That’s when the comedown starts. The Fabulous Stains, directed by Lou Adler (Rocky Horror Picture Show) faced discord that saw the two female minds behind its story walk away. Coons and Dowd wanted the story to end with UK girls emulating the Stains. In a way, this was a trumpeting of the feminist wave that Coons saw coming in the punk scene. Adler demanded a rewrite.
Female rage sets in. “Of course, of course, a music journalist and Academy Award-winning screenwriter couldn’t possibly know how to end a punk film about female empowerment better than A MAN.” Finding out that Adler was a creative visionary behind Cheech and Chong does nothing to quell the seething animus building in the uterine lining.
Instead, what once were easily ignorable red flags have turned into gnarling beasts foaming at the mouth. What WAS THAT ENDING? Why does Adler hate women so much that he had to make them sellouts? Does he have mommy issues? Wild accusations fly with nothing to back them up. Like, I bet HE’s the reason we saw the shower sex scene with fifteen-year-old Lane. PERV. I HAVE NOTHING TO BACK THIS UP EXCEPT THAT HE WAS THE DIRECTOR. SO, HE COULD HAVE CUT THE SCENE.
Here’s where I admit that I buried the lead. Because I didn’t want to think about it. See, it’s not just a shower scene. It’s bigger than that, bigger than the ending. There are reports that Dowd was groped on set by a camera operator. That was the final straw.
The project was shelved after poor test screening. Two years passed before Adler tacked on the MTV music video ending, which bought it a very limited theatrical release (Valentish). It wasn’t until the film started being replayed on TVs that The Fabulous Stains gained its cult status and made noise within the punk scene. Now it is cited by Cameron Crowe as one of the best music films. Proving this product of a toxic production has one hell of a half-life. Even with the Elmer’s glued-on ending.
This is what it looks like. This is how it sounds. It ain’t pretty to watch female voices persisting. But it is cathartic to hear them shouting at the masses, “Suckers! Suckers! Suckers! Be yourselves! These guys laugh at you. They’ve got such big plans for the rules but they don’t include us.” Cutting through the bullshit.
Edited by Olga Tchevpikova-Treon